Rules of Kink
by Zighana
Summary: Taylor finds a strange quirk about Troy while cleaning his room. Troy/Taylor, Explicit Sexual Content, Smutty McSmutterson, you have been warned!


**Kink**

_Taylor learns some quirks about her best friend. Taylor/Troy one-shot_

**_I DO NOT OWN HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL. DISNEY DOES, I_**_ THINK._**  
**_(But if only I could own Zac Efron...nnnnf!)_

* * *

It's Spring Cleaning Week.

It is the time of the year where Taylor would barge in Troy's home and demand he gave his quarters a thorough cleaning. Troy hates cleaning; he knows that once it gets clean it'll get back dirty again when he can't find whatever it is he needs. But to shut Taylor up, he obliges. Like clockwork, Taylor kicks open his bedroom door, throws off his covers, and drags him out of bed. Literally. It's twenty minutes protest, fifteen of arguing, and finally five minutes of acceptance and submission by the time they make it to the foot of the stairs. Troy is digging through the broom closet for the cleaning supplies while Taylor makes her way upstairs to retrieve a shirt and some socks for Troy.

Taylor likes cleaning with Troy; something about getting rid of junk and making someone's life easier and clutter-free is one of her hobbies. She finds herself in Troy's room and is disgusted by what she sees; everything is so unorganized! Taking a deep breath, she decides to tackle one room off her list and closes the door behind her.

She takes everything off the floor and place it atop the bed. She'll vacuum now. Run in the vacuum over the floor a few times works wonders for a junky room. She wipes down the walls, organizes his trophy shelf by year, cleans his computer screen and washes his windows. She stacks his books and place them where they need to go and organizes his desk that's littered with junk from his Sophomore Year in college. She arranges his shoes, clothes, and accessories in his closet by color and makes her way to the monstrosity on his bed. She takes the junk piece by piece, placing them in its rightful order. When she gets to the last pieces of junk on the bed, her face burns up.

Two pairs of handcuffs. The furry, cheetah-printed kind.

What appears to be a whip.

A piece of leather string with a red ball in the middle.

A bundle of rope.

Condoms of every color, flavor, and texture that's scattered all over the bed.

And a metal box, guarded by a combination lock, with the words, _For Her._

_What the hell...?_

"Yo Tay, I was wondering if you found..." Troy enters his room and time stops. Taylor is oblivious to him, holding his ball gag in a mix of question and disgust. He knows there's no way to lie or explain himself out of this one. But how could she have gotten her hands on his stash? He could've sworn...

He gives his room a quick look over. Everything is organized, neat, and pristine. Taylor had took it upon herself to clean his room _without_ his permission and found his dirty little secret. Instead of feeling ashamed, he's angry. How _dare_ she intrude his room and clean it without his knowledge or permission? And she's going to sit there and criticize his secrets?

He. Is. Pissed.

"I think it's time for you to leave." Troy says after a moment of silence. Taylor jumps with a yelp and finds Troy eerily calm as he leans against the doorpost. His cold green eyes fill Taylor with a sense of fright. She finds this calm and angry-eyed Troy a scary one.

"What are these-"

"You should really get going, Taylor."

"Why do you have-"

"I think it's time for you to go, Taylor."

"But Troy-"

"I'm not going to ask you again." Troy's word is final. Taking the hint, Taylor exits his room and when Troy hears the car drive off, he sits on his bed and takes deep breaths. He knows he shouldn't be upset with her but she should know better not to touch his items, snoop around in his quarters, and stumble upon his secrets. Without permission.

He grabs the leather whip and inhales its scent. He runs his fingers over the smooth material and feels calmer. He grabs the metal box and unlocks the combination lock. Opening it, he's greeted with photos of Taylor, Gabriella, and other women that are in his life. He smiles and scatters them aside to retrieve his true loves. Sex toys, new and freshly purchased, greet his eyes. He picks up a jelly cock and wiggles it, checking its strength and durability. Seeing it's acceptable, he dumps the box and assembles his toys. Things like this makes him calm down, especially after a stressful day. When they are neat and tidy, he places them back in their rightful places and then assembles the photos to stack at the top. He stops when he picks up Taylor's photo. The photo is of her posing in a simple one-piece bathing suit. It looks innocent enough, but it's the object of Troy's obsession.

He runs his fingers over the glossy photo and bites his lip. Her smile, the glow of her dark chocolate skin, those sexy thighs that are begging for his attention. He feels his pants tighten at the fantasies he has for her. She has broken an unwritten rule Troy follows by: don't touch his things without permission. She's been quite the naughty girl; Troy decides it's time to teach her a lesson.

* * *

That night, Taylor runs her bath water. The loud noise of the water, the sprinkle of bath salts and bubbles did little to calm her worrying mind. How could she look Troy in the eye without asking about his...items? Is he a sexual deviant hiding behind that sweet smile the whole time? Is he into that creepy culture of chains, pain, and torture? She cringes at the thought. But at the same token, she should mind her business. What he does behind closed doors is his business; she has no right judging. If anything, she's no saint either; there's a 7 inch Mr. Marcus waiting for her in her bedroom dresser. She blushes at the memories she and Mr. Marcus had, especially on her bad days.

Seeing the water is at a perfect temperature, she pins her hair up, slides off her silk kimono, and sinks in. She moans in comfort as the scents and bubbles wash away her troubles. She lathers up, taking care to scrub away where it mattered. She massages her shoulders, dips her fingers into her hips to take away the strain from a hard day's work. She had a tough shift at her job; Candace bailed at the last minute and Taylor had to take her place. Again. She hopes she gets paid for her troubles, because if she has to stock another pair of shoes, she'll scream and raise hell.

Before she could truly relax, she feels a chill enter the bathroom. Perhaps she had forgotten to close her bedroom window? No. Taylor always closes her windows and blinds before she takes a bath. She checked it fifteen minutes ago.

Something strange is afoot.

Pulling the plug on her luxurious bath, she cautiously steps out of the tub and pulls open her bathroom dresser for her taser. It never hurts to be careful. She walks into her bedroom, turning at every corner for any chance to catch a possible burglar. When she makes her way to her window, she realizes the window was open after all. The only weird thing is the screen is sliced into a square. Big enough for a human to crawl through. Fear gripped in her gut, she paces around her home with her taser wield like a gun.

"Whoever you are, show your face or get the hell out. I am not afraid to shoot at will and I won't hesitate to call the police!"

Silence.

She runs downstairs, eyes pacing back and forth. Here she is, naked as the day she was born, running around her house with a taser. Even she knows she looks like a damn fool, but she's beyond the point of caring. She values her safety than looks. She checks her garage, the dining room, the kitchen, the washroom, the guest bathroom and even the guest bedroom.

No one is here.

Taylor sighs in relief. Maybe the intruder got smart and left. She goes upstairs to her bedroom and she screams.

There, waiting for her, is a man in a ski mask. He wears a skin-tight black Henley shirt, black cargo jeans and black gloves. Before Taylor could run, she's grabbed and slammed into the floor, the glint of a knife is all she could see. To her right, her taser is still clutched in her hand. The man kicks it out of the way.

"You're going to do _exactly_ what I say or there will be consequences. I am a man of zero tolerance so _don't_ fuck with me." He presses the knife to her cheek for emphasis. That voice sounds familiar, like someone she knows.

Troy?

She twists her body to look at her attacker. Blue-green eyes stare back at her.

It _is_ Troy.

"Troy," she grunts out, trying to wiggle him off. But he's not budging.

"Do what I say, Taylor." That eerily calm voice sets Taylor on edge. She nods.

"Lie on your stomach and don't move."

Fearful, Taylor obeys.

"You've been a very bad girl, Tay. It's time I teach you a lesson in personal boundaries."

Her arms are jerked to her back, and the clink of the furry handcuffs are enough to make her antsy. She feels a silk material wrap around her eyes and she sees darkness. Just when things couldn't get any stranger, she feels a plastic sphere being pushed into her lips.

"Open your mouth."

Taylor opens it and nearly chokes at how sickly sweet the sphere tastes. When it's secured at the back of her head, she wants to scream. He comes in her home, blindfolds, gags, and bounds her, and she has no way of fighting him off, especially in her naked state.

"You look so sexy right now, Tay." he whispers against her shoulder, his finger sliding over her ass in tiny circles. The bass in his voice makes her womanhood prickle against her wishes.

"I wish I could take a picture and show you."

She'd much rather die.

She gasps as Troy places kisses on her spine and works his way down to her ass. He rubs and kneads it in his hands, humming with praise.

"You have a really nice ass, Tay. Nice, round, and smackable." Before Taylor could respond, Troy's large hand falls down on her cheeks with a loud smack. She howls and twists against Troy, but he grabs her hips with one hand and smacks her with the other.

"I want you to learn-" smack "-that one way to get on my bad side-" smack "-is to touch and move my things-" smack "-without my permission."

Satisfied with the results, he rubs a soothing hand on her abused cheeks, grinning at Taylor's pants and groans. Before she got comfortable, Troy swats her again.

"I don't like when you come into my home-" smack "-wake me up on a _Saturday_ of all days-" smack "-and boss me around. I'm the one running the show, Tay." He smacks her harder for good measure.

"I don't want you bossing me around, especially in my home. My house, my rules. And you'll follow these rules." He rubs Taylor's ass one last time before making her stand.

"I will teach you these rules I have right now. Starting with, trust." Taylor gulps deeply.

"Do you trust me, Taylor?"

_Not right now_, she wants to say. Fingers trace her shoulders, her breasts, and her womanhood. When his fingers dip in and trace her clit, she jolts.

"Answer me, Taylor," he warns, "yes or no."

She furiously shakes her head. Sighing, he places a kiss to her cheek.

"I'll teach you. You need to trust me right now, Taylor. You're at my mercy." He wraps his lips around her right nipple and suckles softly. He lavishes it with his tongue, drenching it with his spit. He gives it a soft blow and watches it stand at his attention. He gives the equal treatment to her left one, she gives a soft whine. He takes his time with her body, placing kisses on her breasts, down to the pudge on her stomach. He always has a soft spot for women with extra meat on their bones anyway. When he gets to her sex, he spreads her legs wider as he sinks to his knees.

"Do you trust me, Taylor?" His breath is warming her sex, arousing her. How long has it been since someone had licked her down there? Fighting her hormones, she shakes her head no. Chuckling, Troy spreads her lips with his fingers and dives in.

Her inner folds spread, he licks them in zig-zag motion before circling the clit with the tip of his tongue and sucking it gently. He engages his tongue with her button in a dance before withdrawing and suckling on her inner lips. The obscene slurping and licks are the soundtrack that fills the room. Taylor whimpers, trying to fight her shaking legs and stay calm. But when he starts darting in and out of her with his tongue, she's ready to throw in the towel.

Troy looks up at her while he tastes her, smirking as his ministrations are weakening her. Getting bored with using only tongue, he plunges two fingers in and Continues his assault. The sensations are too much for Taylor; her moans and whines get louder and louder with each minute. She wants to beg, beg for him to please, _please_, stop. Her orgasm is coming so close she could taste it. Troy knows too. He pulls away with a loud smack, his lips and fingers coated in her juices.

After he licks them clean, he asks, "Next lesson is Control. Do you trust me?"

Taylor, too blind with pleasure and sexual frustration, nods her head.

"Good girl. Now, lay on your back and open your legs wide."

She is guided to her bed and plops down on her plush mattress. She spreads her legs as wide as she could go, unsure of what Troy will do next.

She gasps when something cold and soft enters her. She wants to push it out, but instead her body keeps taking it in, warming it up with her body temperature.

"Good girl," he coos, placing a kiss on her mound, "take it in, inch by inch. I got it just for you."

Troy gets bolder, pushing in the toy before sliding it out slowly, making Taylor feel the details and ridges of it.

"Right now, Tay, right at this moment, your body belongs to me. Your mind, your soul, your _pussy_," he thrusts the toy inside her, "is mine. All of it belongs to me." He grabs Taylor's face by her chin and looks at her. Once bright and fiery brown eyes are clouded with pleasure. Lips plump and glossy from the candy ball gag. Cheeks flushed with need.

She looks absolutely perfect.

"You're mine."

He thrusts the toy in earnest now, his hand a blur at his ridiculously fast pace. Taylor's legs are twitching from the impact, her orgasms ripped away from her by the sensations.

This is something far from her element; the helplessness, the bondage, the relinquishing of control. It's foreign, it's strange, it's...erotic.

She likes the pleasure, rides out her pain, listens to Troy's filthy talk in her ear.

"Mine. Every part of you is _mine_." He grits out, grabbing her breasts and biting her shoulder. He eases the toy out of her slowly and leaves her. Taylor twists and turns, nervous over where Troy is. All it takes is the crinkling of a wrapper and she knows what's next.

Troy presses his member against her entrance slowly.

"I'm gonna make you come, Tay. Make you scream." Without a warning, he slams himself into her. In and out, in and out, he grins wickedly when he sees the headboard slam into the wall with each thrust. Feeling bold, he unties Taylor's blindfold.

"Look at me. Look at the man who's making you come." He orders. When her beautiful brown eyes stare into his, he nearly loses it right there. He continues his pace, maintaining eye contact with Taylor. They rock together at a slow, torturous pace, and it's driving Taylor insane. She tries to buck against him, only to receive a warning swat on her hip.

"_My_ way." He breathes out against her lips, and continue use his punishing pace. Taylor mewls and whines, trying to make him go faster. She's ready to get accustomed to the motion until he slams into hard and fast before she could take it. The sight of her writhing beneath him, the silky tightness of her, her delicious sounds, it's enough to make Troy primal. He snarls and thrusts faster, grabbing her hips so hard he knows he'll leave bruises. He bites her shoulder and sucks on the flesh, marking his territory. He wants everyone to see who she belongs to, knows who it is that's fucking her, making her come.

He wants to hear her say it herself.

He forces the candy gag down to her chin. Taylor sputters and coughs the sickly sweetness that pooled in her mouth.

"Say my name, Tay. Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"Troy," she croaks out.

"Louder."

"Troy."

"I can't fucking hear you, _bitch_. I want to know who this pussy belongs to!"

He moves faster with his pace, his completion just around the corner. He wants her to say his name, wants her to come, wants her to submit. He feels Taylor's walls tighten and he knows she's close.

"Say it," he hisses in her ear, "I want the neighbors to know who the _fuck_ is making you come."

"Troy, Troy, _TROY_!" She comes with a scream, her voice grated raw with pleasure. Troy comes too, gripping her body like a safety blanket. He collapses on her, breathing against her chest, panting in sync with Taylor's breath. He peppers her neck, shoulders, and breasts with butterfly kisses before sliding out of her and discarding the condom. He lies back on the bed, taking the key to uncuff Taylor. She rubs her wrists and stares back at him, both unsure of what to say.

"I can leave, if you'd like." He says after a pregnant pause. Taylor slowly sits up and looks at him.

She doesn't want to think anymore; she wants to lie back in her bed and bask in the afterglow of amazing sex. But the sobering feelings hit her and she feels awful. She just had sex with her friend Troy, against her will. What's worse is that Troy is Gabriella's ex. Sex with a best friend's ex is an absolute sin in the rules of gal pals. Such feelings makes her feel guilty, like a backstabbing slut who scavenges for leftovers.

"I slept with my best friend's ex," she says, "I feel terrible right now. What about Gabriella?"

"She'll be fine. She's moved on with her life and so have I." Troy responds. "Besides, we've broken up _three years ago_. I doubt she's still holding the torch for me right now."

"But that doesn't mean she won't be upset that I slept with her ex. It's like an unspoken rule between girlfriends. Don't you know that?"

"Yes. The rule is to not sleep with the ex until the friend has fully gotten over the break up. Three years is enough time to get over _anything_. I think she won't raise a fuss over a one-night stand." He sits up and stretches, his muscles and flesh greeting her eyes.

"Unless, you want something more than just sex." When his eyes met hers, they're a soft blue. Taylor tries to register what he's saying. They just become lovers after one night of passionate sex? It sounds like something out of those cheesy romance novels.

"I don't really know what I want right now." Taylor admits, fiddling with her hands. Troy sighs and pecks her on her cheek.

"No pressure. Whatever you want to do I will support it whole-heartedly. However," he wraps her legs around his hips, "if you want something more, understand I'm a very possessive man. I don't want any other guy coming before me unless they're kin or very good friends, understand?"

She nods.

"Let's just take this step by step. See where this goes."

Troy gives a curt nod and traces her thighs with his finger.

"Taking baby steps. I like that."

She hums in approval.

"What made you do all this?"

"Because I wanted to teach you a lesson about boundaries. Guess I got carried away," he chuckles. Taylor laughs also, sighing when he kisses her calf.

"I also wanted to educate you about my...gadgets that you found. They're the instruments in a set of rules I live by. The rules of Kink."

"The rules of Kink?"

"The rules of Kink. It's where beginning doms and subs learn the ropes and expand their sexual palate."

"Doms and Subs?"

"I have a lot to teach you about my extracurricular activities." He snorts. He looks up at her and smiles.

"You want me to teach you more?"

"Go for it." She pulls him down to her for a kiss.

* * *

**AN: Wooh, that was a hot one! I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I want to know what you think, so leave some comments and tell me what you think!**

**P.S. This features Zac Efron in his later years with the lovely Monique Coleman. Just wanted a nice little image for your guys. ;)**

**See you guys! Thanks for reading!**


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